The Substitute Omakes, Epilogues, and Alt Endings
by BajaB
Summary: Bits that didn't make it into the final version of my story, The Substitute. Mostly alternate endings. You have to read The Substitute for any of this to make sense.
1. Epilogue 4

**This is not a story.**

_It is the bits that, for various reasons, did not make it into my actual story, The Substitute. If you have not read that, these will be meaningless to you._

_Mostly, these are parts that didn't work out for me, or deviated too much from the outline I was working to, and are not really omakes. Not all of them are complete, and some will contradict what went into the final story. I am posting them because it was suggested to me that some people might be interested in seeing them. I'll post bits, probably a few days apart, and will try to include a brief descritption or explanation. There is probably only going to be three or four, since most were just variations of a couple of themes._

_If you hated the ending of the real story, you might even find an alternate or two here that your imagination can use to fill in or replace the real one._

_I hope this is of interest to somebody._

_Let's start with the Epilogues._

#

_My original outline had no epilogue, and that's what I ended up using, but before I made up my mind and started posting the story, I did try a few different ones. Most of them sucked. This was the one I eventually decided was the best of a bad lot._

**_Altending/Epilogue 4_**

Silent footsteps leave the school and head towards the fenced off area without pausing. The solid looking section of wooden wall fades momentarily as the faint impressions on the ground reach it, disturbing the illusion as they pass through.

The blackened earth on the other side of the ineffective barrier is shot with splashes of bright green where nature inevitably began to reclaim the barren soil.

Ignoring the new growth, the invisible feet continue along the faint outline of a track into the burnt and twisted remains of hedges. It takes mere minutes to cross directly to the centre, bypassing the extensive labyrinth that occasionally warps and bends in a vain effort to move into a new configuration.

That any of the magic still remains, so long after wreck and ruin were visited upon it, is quite astounding.

The steps pause at the edge of the wide, shallow crater. Many footprints crisscross the bowl of scorched ground; some old, some new, but all searching, and none finding.

Instead of joining them, the steps turn aside, returning to a place further back near the line of where one of the walls lay before being obliterated. Magic stirred the broken branches of the hedge Hagrid had so carefully grown, sifting them gently into new piles. Many other piles lie nearby; clear signs that this was not the first visit of the trespasser, although it would likely be among the last.

The maze is scheduled to soon be cleared and replanted as the grass floor of the Quidditch pitch it was always meant to be. There is no reason to leave it as it is any further, so the visible memorial to that horrible night was to be removed, and hopefully forgotten by all, although that was exceedingly unlikely.

Suddenly the sifting stops and an invisible throat gasped.

Held up by magic, the broken and crushed half of a wand hangs in mid-air, barely recognisable amongst the other soot-covered debris of the hedge. Only somebody who knew what they were looking for could possibly have found it.

The searcher knows what he is looking for.

Dropping the invisibility cloak, he steps forward and reaches out to pick the wand from the pile of floating sticks. A gout of sparks splutters unevenly from the shattered end of the wand, as if in an enthusiastic but frail greeting.

"I'll never forget," said Harry Potter, fiercely clutching the wand tighter. "Your fight is mine now."

**Finite Incantatem.**

_**OR**_

"I'll never forget," said Neville Longbottom, fiercely clutching the wand tighter. "Your fight is mine now."

**Finite Incantatem.**

_So Golem-Harry still dies, but at least one person's changes are hinted at. I like the idea of having Neville as the chosen one. People who are stuck on the canon interpretation of the prophecy really have such small imaginations._ :)


	2. Epilogue 3

_This was a close second for the Epilogue, but just didn't come across with the same impact as the other._

**Epilogue/Alt ending 3**

The Headmaster's office never felt so small, or empty. Fawkes, still mostly unfeathered after the nearly disastrous attempt to enter the maze, clung precariously to his perch, unable to croon a comforting song.

The sorting hat failed to offer any words of wisdom or comfort, and the portraits of prior headmasters were silent for the first time in living memory. Silver trinkets lay broken and unmoving where once they spun and whirled with occasional energetic outbursts of smoke.

In the whole room, the only thing that made any sound at all was the headmaster, sitting at his desk.

He had learned a lesson the night of the Triwizard Tournament's third task; a painful and disturbing lesson that he would rather be without.

Albus Dumbledore wept tears of anguish and remorse onto his desk, but none brought any relief to the pain of failure throbbing in his chest.

**Finite Incantatem**


	3. Crowd Pleaser

_Somebody sent me a PM with an idea that made me write the following. It completely changed the point of the story though, so was never finished or used. People who did not like the chosen ending might like this a bit better, even though it is not complete._

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

**Crowd Appeasing ending, of sorts (Incomplete).**

Harry watched the flames of the explosion roll towards him, the Triwizard Cup flying on their leading edge. He braced himself and caught the cup, involuntarily closing his eyes against the imminent death following it.

But the flames didn't touch him, as something grabbed him behind his navel and dragged him away.

His mind refused to focus on what was happening. The spinning of the Portkey muddled his thoughts even more than pain from the beatings of his final moments in the maze. Then the shocking and uncomfortable tug of the Triwizard Cup Portkey ceased as suddenly and unexpectedly as it started, dumping Harry painfully on his back.

Immediately, a searing stab of pain lanced into his head from his scar.

Crying out, Harry clutched his hands to his forehead, dropping the cup that had transported him to wherever he now was. It rolled off his chest, remarkably undamaged by the blast of the erumpent fluid pedestal.

Despite the pain, Harry managed to look around him. He could see tombstones, some adorned with statues of angels as tall as a man. Crosses and other symbols were abundant, removing any chance he was anywhere besides a cemetery.

Climbing to his knees, he heard a rustling behind, just before a flash of red light lit up the faces of the silent, stone watchers, and he fell into unconsciousness.

#

"Wake up, Harry, it's time to die."

The deep, melodious voice roused Harry from the last effects of his unnatural slumber. He groaned in agony, automatically rubbing the scar at the centre of the worst of it. A thousand other injuries clamoured for his attention, including a burning cut on the inner elbow of the arm he raised.

"That's it, Harry," said the voice encouragingly.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear them. The star filled sky above him swam into focus, but offered no answers, so he rolled his head to each side, looking for the owner of the voice, and then struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.

A well-dressed young man stood a few feet away, towering over him. Everything about the man screamed power and elegance, from the black shoulder length hair falling below his collar, to the aristocratic features of his handsome face. Even the way he stood seemed to impart an impression of strength, both physical, and magical.

It would have been very impressive, except for two things. One, the massive amount of pain Harry was experiencing, and two, the fact he suddenly recognised the man standing in front of him, even though he had only ever briefly seen him once before, and a much younger version at that.

"Good of you to join us," said the older, better-developed version of Tom Riddle.

Harry vomited.

"Wormtail, give our young guest a drink and clean him up some more," said Voldemort, his voice ringing with such a tone of command it almost made Harry feel bad about being a fuss.

Almost.

Peter Pettigrew rushed to Harry's side, quickly helping the injured boy to sit up. Ignoring Harry's feeble efforts to push him away, he pushed a goblet to Harry's mouth and tipped a sweet smelling potion down his throat.

Too weak to fight it, Harry was forced to swallow, but almost instantly felt relief flood through his body, and strength began to return to his limbs. Even the almost intolerable ache in his head receded slightly, making room for him to think.

Peter began casting spells Harry recognised as cleaning and repairing spells, and several surprisingly powerful healing spells. One by one, Harry's various aches and pains faded, until he felt strong enough to talk.

"How?" he croaked out, ignoring Wormtail to focus on Voldemort.

"How is it I now stand before you, restored, and indeed, improved, after my long existence as a wraith? Ah Harry, that tale is long and interesting, but I do not have the time to tell you, since you will be dying soon," said Voldemort, smiling coldly. "Suffice to say I had planned for two years to use you to resurrect myself, and spent the better part of this one with Wormtail tending me as I struggled to prepare for this night."

"The cup," said Harry, finding his voice returning. "Crouch said the cup was a bomb, not a Portkey."

"Ah yes. It was the trigger to a bomb, as well as a Portkey. You see, if Barty failed to bring you to me, I wanted to ensure I had a champion handy to use in your place. My alternate ritual is significantly less effective, but still acceptable, under the current the circumstances.

"Imagine how surprised I was to discover that although Barty failed, as I feared he would, I was still given possession of you, the very creation I needed to fashion myself this incredible body. Truly, fortune does favour the bold, but enough talking. It is time to summon the others and let them witness my triumphant return. Worm, cease your pestering of the Golem and come here."

Peter whimpered and jumped to his feet, scrambling over to Voldemort as fast as he could. He knelt on the ground at the Dark Lord's feet and held out his right arm, pulling back his sleeve to bare his forearm.

Voldemort stretched out his wand and slowly brought it down towards Peter's arm slowly, obviously savouring the whimpering noises Peter involuntarily let out as it descended.

Just before it touched, three distant voices spoke, and three bright green flashes of magic shot inwards, all converging on the man standing arrogantly at their centre.

Voldemort moved so fast he was practically a blur. He threw himself to the ground, scant moments before the spells would have hit him.

Wormtail was not so lucky.

Harry saw life leave Peter. One moment he was looking up at Voldemort, terrified of what was about to happen, and the next he was no longer alive. His expression didn't alter, or his colour change at all, but Harry could tell the exact moment the first of the three spells hit him, wiping away everything that made him 'alive'.

Even as Peter's corpse fell forward, more spells flew in. Instinctively, Harry threw himself to the ground near traitor. The corpse made for poor shelter, but it was the closest thing around, so Harry lay as low as possible against it, futilely covering his head with his arms as the battle raged.

Cries of 'Avada-Kedava' and the corresponding green burst of light seem to be coming from all around. Voldemort fired back as many as came in, all the time moving to keep from being hit. He ducked and weaved behind headstones and statues, using them for cover that he could return withering amounts of spells from, although it was mostly the same bright green as the majority of the incoming curses.

Suddenly the fighting stopped.

Harry could hear Voldemort's laboured breathing a few feet away, all of his moving somehow not getting him much distance.

The last thing Harry wanted to do was attract attention, but he couldn't help himself. Slowly, he raised his head to look over Peter' body towards the Dark Lord.

Voldemort stood behind the shattered remains of an angel, his wand held high. Anger twisted his handsome features into a devil's grimace.

"Who is there?" yelled Voldemort, causing Harry to flinch and duck down again. "Who dares to fire on the Dark Lord. Reveal yourselves!"

"Dear, oh dear, oh dear," laughed a voice from some distance behind Voldemort. "Sounds to me like somebody doesn't like surprises."

Voldemort span around to face the direction of the voice, just as another voice replied from slightly to the side of the first.

"It does appear we interrupted something, doesn't it?" asked the second voice, sounding as if it was coming closer.

Voldemort change to angle of wand slightly, compensating for the new direction.

"I would have to agree," said a third voice, coming from further to the right again. "Although, I can't say I am sorry to interrupt his little party, even though it was just a bonus to finding Wormtail. Wouldn't you agree, Mister Prongs?"

Harry's heart nearly leapt from his chest.

The Marauders somehow stepped from the shadows as if all three were wearing invisibility cloaks and had just dropped them. Voldemort hissed in anger.

"Potter! You dare—"

"Not so much as dare," said James Potter. "More like, choosing to do so with profound happiness and great relish. Pity we were still a bit far away to really make it count."

"We couldn't have you touching your wand to the nasty mark on Peter's arm now, could we?" asked Sirius. "You never know what you might catch doing that."

"A cadre of minions I suspect, Mister Padfoot," said Remus. "A right nasty breed too, I'll wager."

"No bet there, Mister Moony," said Sirius.

"You are all dead men," said Voldemort, practically snarling at their defiance.

"We crossed wands three times before, Voldemort," said James. "What makes you think you can take me this time, especially when I've been practicing for a dozen years just for this day, and you've just been floating around scaring mice and little children?"

It might have been his imagination, but Harry was certain he saw Voldemort hesitate, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features, but it passed quickly.

"You fool," said Voldemort. "Even you must see how superior I am to that weak mortal you barely managed to survive before."

"He does look a bit peaky, doesn't he?" asked Sirius.

Harry looked at the former convict, unable to stop himself from feeling a surge of happiness at seeing the man he thought was his godfather. He looked good, healthy, and clean. Obviously being reunited with James and Remus was working out for him, despite the fact all they had apparently been doing was hunting down Wormtail.

Astonishingly, Sirius caught his eye, and winked.

"Hold your tongue, Black, or I'll rip it from your mouth," said Voldemort.

"Now that's not how you are supposed to speak to your loyalest follower?" laughed Remus. "Don't you know he spent about ten years in Azkaban for you? Least you could do is to show some appreciation."

"What do you want, Potter?" demanded Voldemort, ignoring Remus completely.

"Your head on a spike, and your body dragged through the streets for children to spit on as a warning for the next thousand years that some things come at too high a price," replied Potter savagely, "but I'll settle for less. In fact, you've been such a wonderful help, keeping Peter close by and all that, I'm going to do you a favour. Leave, now, and never come back, and I won't hunt you down to pull your liver out through your nose."

"Are you proposing to let me go?" laughed Voldemort. "I think you are deluding yourself."

"You got that right," said James.

With that, he flicked his wand, and the battle was on again.

Hiding behind Peter, Harry watched in amazement as the Marauders battled the Dark Lord. When he watched Harry Potter fighting the Skrewt, he thought he was witnessing the greatest fight of his life. Watching James Potter now, Harry realised just how far Real-Harry had to go.

The man was amazing, ducking and twisting while dozens of spells leapt from his wand, including a significant number of killing curses. His wand never stopped moving, shielding and attacking so fast that Harry couldn't hope to keep up. The power behind some of the spells made the hair on Harry's back stand up. They blistered the air and sent loud cracks into the night, burning holes in the spaces they passed through.

Remus too was fighting like nothing Harry had ever imagined possible. While nowhere near as light or nimble as James, he was still a force to be reckoned with. Almost all of his attacks were deadly accurate, although few were the killing curse, and most of his moving was between several pillars of mausoleum some distance back from the others.

Sirius seemed to drop out of the fight, only to reappear in different places around Voldemort. He would pop up out of nowhere and launch a series of rapid spells along with several Avadas, and then drop out again before any counter attack could reach him.

Yet despite all of this, the Dark Lord held his own.

He moved much less than his attackers, preferring instead to move headstones and debris into the path of any lethal spells. Many attacks he knocked away with a flick of his wand, sometimes managing to deflect them back against one of his opponents.

His counter attacks were at least as ferocious as James Potter's, some pulsating with so much force it made the skin of Harry's face burn.

After a few furious minutes, Harry realised Voldemort was winning. Somehow, he was wearing the trio down. Incoming attacks were becoming slightly less powerful, and less frequent. James was definitely moving slower, and was using transfiguration more and more. Sirius was taking longer to move, even mistakenly changing into Padfoot while Voldemort could still see him.

But the Dark Lord was tiring too, although not as quickly.

They were so evenly matched, at three to one, but all it would take was one big mistake, and the odds would change. If only Harry had his wand. Even broken, all it would take was one surprise hit against Voldemort to knock him off balance, and the Marauders would have him.

Then Harry saw it, poking out of a tear in Peter's robes; a wand. Not his wand, but a wand never the less.

Intimately aware of the risk of been seen, Harry slowly reached over and grabbed the wand. The moment his fingers closed around the unfamiliar stick, he tried to bring it up to point at the Dark Lord, but it was stuck. He pulled on it, trying to dislodge it, but it refused to budge, somehow sticking to the inside of the robes.

With spells zooming overhead and his skull still threatening to burst from pain, Harry got to his knees and reached over Peter's body to use both hands to free the wand from the tangle of cloth. It took an eternity.

Finally, he managed to pull the wand out. A warmth spread in his closed fist, and a small spray of sparks fell from the wand, but Harry was already bringing it up and shouting the words he thought he would never say.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Time passed even slower as the sickly green spell shot from his new wand and travelled the short distance to where Voldemort's back waited. The Dark Lord began to turn, but never had a chance as the killing curse slammed into his unprotected back.

And bounced off.

Voldemort fell to his knees, but no further.

All other spells stopped, and a shocked silence settled over the battle field. It was broken moments later when a hideous, cackling laughter filled the emptiness.

"Thank you, Golem," said Voldemort, climbing to his feet and turning to face him. "I learned my lessons from the first time we met, but was still uncertain if the spells I used to create this body were adequate. After all, being hit by the killing curse is not something you can test with impudence.

"But now you have answered the question for me. I am immune to the deadliest spell known to man."

Green lights flashed out from the darkness, but all three bounced off, one exploding the remains of an angel into dust.

Voldemort hadn't moved a muscle.

Bitterness filled Harry's mouth.

"There is more than one way to kill a man," he said, struggling to climb to his feet while keeping his wand pointed at the Dark Lord.

"But I am no mere man," said Voldemort.

An explosion tore into the ground next to Voldemort, lifting the Dark Lord and a great deal of dirt into the air. At the same time, something leapt out of the shadows to Harry's right and collided with him, carrying him well away from the falling Dark Lord.

"Stay down," said Sirius, dragging Harry behind a headstone.

"Like hell," said Harry, pulling himself free of the man's grip. "You need me, or he'll win."

"We need to get the hell out of here," said Sirius, firing a spell over the top of the headstone they were behind. "Really wish we hadn't put up anti-apparition wards, bloody Remus."

"You're going to run away?" asked Harry, leaning to the side of the same headstone in order to shoot off a spell.

Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was out of his sight, defending himself from the multitude of coloured spells flaying at him.

"Damn straight. Did you just see the Killing curse bounce off him? That's a fairly good sign that we are outmatched – badly – and that's when it's time for all good dogs to go home."

"Sirius," said a voice from Sirius's pocket.

"I've got him," said Sirius, firing more spells over the top of their makeshift cover. "Let me know when to bolt."

"You can't let Voldemort get away!" said Harry.

"He's too tough," said Sirius, ducking down just in time for a killing curse to travel through the space where his head had just been. "Unless you know how to get around whatever it is he's got that stops the AK, we've got bugger all that will top him. I broke his arm at least twice earlier, but it keeps fixing itself. The killing curse is our only hope, and you've seen how good that works."

Harry's mind raced, despite the layers of pain. A jumble of half heard conversations and barely remembered hints from Dumbledore somehow coming together into one answer.

"Sirius," Harry said. "You've got to kill me."

"What?"

"It's me, I'm the reason he won't die. Dumbledore told me. He said part of Voldemort's soul is inside of me-"

"I heard that and it's a load of bunk."

"It's what is keeping him alive – it has to be," said Harry. "You've got to do it, and wit hthe Killing curse. Nobody can kill themselves with it, so you have to."

"Don't be stupid," said Sirius, suddenly transforming to run the next headstone over, and the transforming back to fire off several spells.

"Do it!" yelled Harry. "You have to."

"I am not going to kill you," said Sirius, firing again before rolling back to Harry. "Now shut up and start shooting. We need him distracted long enough for Moony to bring down the wards. Another minute or two will do it."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Fine," he said. "I'll do it myself."

Before Sirius could react, Harry leapt to his feet, stumbling slightly on his injured leg.

The green light of the Killing curse left Voldemort's wand before the Dark Lord realised who his target was. Harry saw a look of shock and fear, before the spell closed the distance and slammed into his chest.

It felt like somebody kicked him, right in the middle of his chest, but he kept on feeling.

He felt the foul magic enter his body, flooding it with the horrible sensation of trying to wrench his soul away.

He felt something deep inside of him stir, rising to meet the killing curse in a staggering backlash of power. It felt hot.

He felt the combined force of both, the killing spell and the ancient magic imbedded into every cell of his body, shoot from his chest, tearing out of him like a breach in a dam wall, surging forth faster and more powerful than imaginable.

He felt the ground hit him in the back of his head, and the pain in his forehead climb even higher.

He felt the dirt spray up around him as he landed, and even the wand still clutched tightly in his hand.

Then he felt the earth move as an explosion rocked it, sending a fountain of dirt into the air.

The last thing he felt for a while was the sticky, wet rain, mysteriously falling on him. It was only when some of it entered his mouth that he realised it wasn't rain, but was blood, and he sincerely hoped it wasn't his.

What he didn't feel was the moment his scar stopped hurting.

Unconsciousness didn't feel like anything, which was, quite frankly, a blessed relief.

_#_

_**Summary.**_

_Garry misunderstood Crouch. The pedestal is filled with Erumpent Fluid, not the cup._

_Harry summons the cup, and the explosion happens exactly the same way (end of chapter), but the cup itself is a portkey, transporting him to the graveyard where Wormtail and Voldy wait. _

_This was a backup plan of Voldy, in case Crouch failed to get away with the golem. He planned on using the winner in his ritual instead._

_Getting the golem anyway is just pure luck._

_Harry gets stunned by Wormtail, which is how he should have been handled in canon, and is woken by a resurrected Voldemort. This time he doesn't have his old snake-head body back, but a new, more powerful, god-like, beautiful, blah, blah, blah._

_He taunts Harry and is about to use the Dark Mark to call his minions, when a killing curse flashes out and does in Wormtail. Two AKs also go for Voldy, but he manages to get out of the way, using his superhuman speed and reflexes._

_The Marauders have arrived - hot on the trail of Peter._

_They taunt Voldemort, and greet Harry, then get into it._

_A mammoth fight ensues, with the main weapon being killing curses flung by all and sundry. Despite the three to one odds, Voldemort manages to hold them off though and starts to win, then Harry adds his two cents, using wormtail's wand to cast the killing curse into Voldemort's back._

_The surprise AK hits Voldemort, and bounces off. He is staggered, but doesn't die. Laughing, he says he has learned his lessons from the disastrous encounter with Golem-Harry, and is now invulnerable to the curse (but he wasn't sure until that moment). The Marauders let rip anyway, but Voldy just stands there and laughs, then starts attacking them again._

_At that point, Harry suddenly believes Voldemort can't die because of the piece of his soul inside of Harry. He begs Sirius to kill him, but Padfoot won't do it. He realises Voldemort doesn't know about the accidental Horcrux, and probably doesn't know the diary has been destroyed (Harry doesn't know about the rest of them)._

_Harry stands up and lets an AK hit him. It bounces back against Voldy. Voldy's flash, new body gets destroyed, and Harry survives, with ghosty V doing a runner, again._

_DD gives a 'nobody really knows what a soul is' talk, debunking a lot of what people thought they knew, and reassures Harry he is more than just a remanent of Riddle._

_I like this for the Blade Runner reference, 'Wake up, it's time to die!', and the Babylon five paraphrasing, but it's a bit of a cop out._


	4. OpenEnded

_Another open-ended Epilogue. This one was just too hollow to use._

**Open Ended Epilogue**

The heavy dog trode deceptively softly over the dead, weed strewn ground of the old graveyard. Its huge paws seem to magically avoid even the slightest twig as it weaved it way between headstones and statues, nose close to the ground.

Suddenly it froze, one paw mid-air, and let out a throaty growl.

Dark stains matted the sparse grass, turning it blacker than the shadows cast in the morning light. A burnt circle of grass lay further on, the shattered remains of a cauldron spread out nearby.

With a soft pop, the dog disappeared and a dark-haired man stood crouched in its place. Wand in hand, Sirius Black took a few moments to look from side to side before standing up and withdrawing a small mirror from inside of his robes.

"James Potter," he said quietly into the mirror. "I found something."

A moment later, the loud double crack of apparition echoed across the empty cemetery.

Two men, both with wands drawn, appeared a few feet away from Sirius. They scanned the area quickly, before taking a single step towards Sirius, who was once again bent over studying the ground.

"He was here?" asked James. "The Rat? How long ago?"

Sirius nodded.

"About a week ago, but he wasn't alone."

"A week ago? That puts it-"

"Night of the third task, yep."

"Coincidence?"

Sirius snorted.

"I doubt it," he said, casting a meaningful look around. "Something big went down here. The task made for a convenient distraction I think."

"It was a bit more than that," called Remus Lupin from a short distance away.

The other two Marauders made their way over to him, careful not to disturb anything. Laying on the ground under a thin film of dirt, lay the clearly recognisable Triwizard Tournament cup.

"Don't touch it," warned Remus. "It's a Portkey."

"That's how it got here?" asked Sirius. "Does that mean?"

"I don't know," said James, looking towards a decrepit looking manor house further up the hill. "But I intent on finding out."

**Finite Incantatem**


	5. Chapter 3 Alternate

_Sometime when I am writing, the story drifts off in directions I did not intend. This version of chapter three is one of those cases, and so was cut. A second version was a possible alternate Epilogue for the Crowd Pleaser, and third version an option for a Confusing Epilogue to the real ending I used. Very little difference in any of them. _

_After this, there is only one other silly little omake exploiting a potential plot left to post._

**Chapter Three (soft version)**

_snipped_

"Don't try and bullshit me with some sort of brat act, Harry," said Real-Harry. "I saw you with the Dragon, and I've heard the stories about the things you've done. No fourth year could have pulled off half of it, and no simple Golem would even have attempt to. Moony and Padfoot agree, by the way. They said you were a top bloke and well worth knowing."

Golem-Harry grunted, unwilling to hear about people he would like to consider his friends, but was now unsure of, since neither had contacted him directly after the return of the Potters.

"Anyway," said Real-Harry. "It's a bit strange having you around, and I know I've not been doing a lot to help you out, but I'm willing to do something for you now, if you want it."

"Why? What's in it for you?"

Golem-Harry leaned forward, his eyes blazing with an inner light.

"For me? What's in it for me? Have you forgotten that it could as easily be me out there? Don't you think I know you are taking a hit for me? I didn't want to admit it, and mum and dad don't see it, but I know you're substituting for me, and I've got a responsibility to try and help you. So far I've done bugger all, but I can do something now, if you let me.

"I've let other people tell me it's your problem, that the rules say you are meant to work it all out yourself, but I saw you out there, and I realised you're getting screwed over, and that's not right."

Golem-Harry watched the fury building in his pseudo-brother, and wondered if that was how it looked to Ron and Hermione in times past when he himself got a head full of anger.

"Get Dad's old cloak on and meet me at the entrance hall in five minutes. We're going on a field trip," said Real-Harry. "Oh, and don't forget that egg-thing."

"Where?" asked Golem-Harry, caught off guard by the suggestion. "I don't think I'm meant to leave the castle."

"Pish," said Real-Harry, standing up. "That doesn't sound much like the guy I just watched reduce a class room to kindling. I mean what are they going to do, suspend you?"

Both laughed at the inane joke, nerves and tension making it funnier than it was.

"All right, but where are we going?"

Real-Harry smiled.

"I think you need a bit of a break from this dreary old castle. Get your gear, I'm taking you home."

"What, Godric's Hollow?"

"No," said Real-Harry, his smile growing to a full-on mischievous smirk. "Avalon."

#

Stepping through the newly cleared portal in the Potters' cellar at Godric's Hollow felt similar to crossing onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. One moment Harry was walking into a dark doorway, and the next he stood in a magical stone circle on the crest of a small, grass covered hill.

The Floo trip from Hogsmead was infinitely more disturbing, especially since he undertook it while trying to stay under the invisibility cloak and predicably fell out at the journey's end.

Real-Harry appeared next to him soundlessly, shimmering into existence as he stepped forward.

"Nice isn't it?"

Golem-Harry looked out over the sun drenched landscape and could only nod. The scenery looked like a postcard, or a photo mural from one of Petunia's expensive travel magazines. Rolling hills covered in fields of yellow flowers ran to a snow capped mountain border. Forests ran alongside chattering streams of crystal clear water. A soft and warm summer breeze stirred the flowers in the grass gently, bringing the scent and promise of summer to them.

"Wow," said Golem-Harry.

"You're lucky," said Real-Harry. "Winter gets a bit harsh, but Mum said it was important for us to experience all of the normal seasons, even if it is spring for eight months of the year. Come on, the house is over this way."

He led the way down a narrow path that wound its way into a valley behind the hill of the stone circle.

"She created all of this?"

"Not technically," answered Real-Harry. "Merlin created the spell originally. One of my great, great, great – you get the picture - grandparents and his two brothers rediscovered it, but couldn't get it working properly. Legend is that the Peverell brothers were incredibly talented wizards, but even they couldn't figure out how to make Merlin's spell work the way it should have. Mum and Dad did though. They had everybody's notes who had ever worked on it, but still, they managed to do something incredible."

There was pride in his voice – not unjustified. It was an extraordinary piece of magic.

"How big is it?" asked Golem-Harry.

"Only a dozen kilometres, but it gives the illusion of being much bigger. You can walk for hours in one direction, only to turn around and get back where you started in a few minutes, if you want to. It's fantastic for getting home on time."

A movement amongst the trees of the forest startled Harry, as a few deer suddenly bound away.

"They're not real," said Real-Harry. "Not much here is, but it's hard to tell, unless you try to do something weird, like kill and eat them."

"What did you do for food?"

"Mum and Dad stocked a lot of supplies, and just kept using expanding and refilling charms to keep it topped up. They used magic to grow everything else we needed in the fields and greenhouses. There it is, home sweet home."

A massive manor house sat nestled on a rise overlooking the valley below them. It was three stories tall and at least four times longer than the Dursley's modest home on Privet drive.

"It wasn't that big when we first came here," explained Real-Harry as they walked on. "Dad worked on it pretty much nonstop the whole time. Can't understand why he would want to go back to Godric's Hollow."

Golem-Harry agreed. It was a paradise. Everything was as perfect as could be imagined.

Inside the house, a different surprise awaited him.

"Hello, Mum," called Real-Harry, entering the front hall of the huge house.

Golem-Harry suddenly felt a thrill of apprehension. He hadn't really thought about it, that the Potters might be home. His previous encounters with Lilly were stilted and uncomfortable, and that was in the relative neutrality of the Headmaster's office. How would she react with him here, in her home?

Golem-Harry got cold feet. He didn't want to see one of the people directly responsible for his current confusion. He objected and tried to suggest it was a mistake and they should go back, but Real-Harry wasn't having any of it, instead setting off to search the house for Lilly, dragging Golem-Harry behind him.

They eventually found her in a huge library, sitting at one of the large writing desks positioned in front of a window looking out towards the distant mountains.

"Mum, I've brought Harry home."

"Hello, Harry," said Lilly Potter, rising from her chair. "Welcome to the Potter's Avalon."

Her awkwardness was still there, but she was obviously trying hard to get over it.

"Hello, er, Mrs. Potter," said Golem-Harry, his throat dry with nerves.

He never did quite work out what to call her.

"Calm down, Harry," said Real-Harry. "She's not going to start poking and prodding you to figure out what makes you tick or anything – are you?"

Lilly smiled hesitantly.

"I watched the task. You did very well," she said. "Your scoring was a travesty."

Golem-Harry nodded, unsure what to say.

"That's why we have brought you here," she said.

"Brought me here?" asked Harry. "We?"

Just then, the door to the study burst open, and three men entered, laughing uproariously at some unheard joke. Harry had his wand half out of his pocket before he caught on who it was.

James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin – the Marauders. They stopped as soon as they caught sight of Golem-Harry, laughs dying on their lips.

Harry caught Sirius's eye.

"Hello, Sirius," he said hesitantly. "Professor Lupin, Mr. Potter."

Lupin smiled in greeting, but Potter looked decidedly put out. Sirius strode purposely forward to sweep Golem-Harry up into a bear hug and spun him around, squeezing him so hard the breath went out of him.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled. "It's great to see you again, my boy."

Golem-Harry felt the tears welling in his eyes, and clung to Sirius. For the first time in his life outside of Hogwarts, Harry felt like he had come home, and although he knew it was only temporary, and not truly his, it felt good – really good.

#

Chloris and Jim joined them two days later.

"Dumbledore wouldn't let us go," explained Chloris. "We told him you were taking a break, but he was being difficult. We tried getting the others out too, but he was keeping too close a watch on them and refused to let them get away. "

Harry sort of missed his friends, but was also a bit relieved that he didn't have to deal with them at the moment. His time in the pocket paradise, away from the hustle and hassle of Hogwarts, was working wonders on his mental state, although sometimes he felt he was being lulled into a false sense of security.

They were lying on the soft grass of the bank of a stream, enjoying the warm sun. It was a far cry from the weather at Hogwarts, and very much a welcome change. The other Avalon inhabitants were off doing their own thing, Harry suspecting the Marauders were once again back in the real world hunting down Wormtail. There was no doubt in his mind now that Lily was avoiding him, but it didn't bother him that much for some reason, possibly because her daughter was good company.

The more time Harry spent with Chloris, the more he realised just how special she was. She wasn't perfect by any means, and had a rather nasty temper, evident mainly when pushed by her brothers, but she normally seemed to be so much at peace with everything.

Watching her walk along any of the numerous winding paths of Avalon, you could never mistake her for somebody not intimately familiar with the place. She just fit right in somehow, becoming a part of it. It also helped explain why she seemed a bit odd outside of it, at Hogwarts; the place was very much foreign to her.

"I bet they're having a field day back there," Golem-Harry said. "Probably placing bets on whether I come back or not."

"Speaking of bets, did you hear about that Bagman fellow and the Goblins?" asked Chloris, sticking the stem of a flower between her teeth. "Turns out he's in a bit of trouble, owing them loads of money for some bad bets. He placed a really big bet on you winning the Tournament, but the Goblins are now saying he bet on Harry Potter, and the real Harry Potter is not participating, so he can't win. They want their money and have been raising a huge fuss about it."

"What's Bagman saying?" asked Harry, strangely intrigued by the gossip.

"That the bet is off, since Harry Potter is not competing and so can't have a bet placed on him," she laughed. "He hasn't figured out that he is going to lose either way, since he still owes them money. Who are you taking to the Yule Ball?"

The sudden change of conversation caught Harry off guard.

"What? The ball?"

"Yeah, you know – the Yule Ball. It's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, and you have to take a date. The champions usually lead the first dance too. Can you dance?"

"What?" asked Harry, completely failing to catch up.

"Hello," laughed Chloris, tapping a long stem of grass on Harry's head. "Anybody in there?"

"Shut it, you," laughed Harry. "I wasn't planning on going."

"You have to. You have to show up, looking great, and make sure lots of people see you having a good time. It's important to let them see you as a normal person – and that's something you pretty much suck at, normally."

"Thanks," said Harry ruefully. "You just really make me want to rush out and get a date. What about you? Who are you going with?"

"Only fourth years and above can go, unless they are invited by an older student," she answered.

"Oh," said Harry. "Do you, er, do you want to go with me, then?"

"I wouldn't mind, but it might seem a bit, er, strange."

"Eh?"

"Harry, you are, for all intents and purposes, my brother –"

"Oh," said Harry. "Eww, right?"

"Oh yes."

"But you can still go with me, you know, as my, er, my friend," he wanted to say as a sister, but the words wouldn't come, even now.

"Thank you," she said, "but I think I might ask Neville if he will take me, and you should probably ask Ginny, since she's stuck up for you and helped you as much as she could."

"Shouldn't I ask Hermione?"

"I think Jim has already cornered her on that one," said Chloris, smirking slightly.

Harry thought he should feel jealous or upset at what Chloris was implying, but he felt just too damn peaceful to worry about it at the moment.

"Cool," he said, putting his head down onto the grass and closing his eyes.

The soothing sound of the babbling stream washed over him, calming his mind even further. He started to drift off to sleep.

"Can you teach me how to dance?" he asked suddenly.

"No, but I'm sure one of the adults or older students will be able to help us out," she answered.

Harry nodded, and continued to slip into a light doze.

"Harry," said Chloris quietly after a few minutes. "Would you have taken me, as a date, if we weren't, you know, sort of related?"

It was an odd sort of question that Harry answered without giving it much thought.

"In a heartbeat," he said sleepily.

#

**Crowd Pleasing Ending Epilogue**

Stepping through the newly cleared portal in the Potters' cellar at Godric's Hollow felt similar to crossing onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. One moment Harry was walking into a dark doorway, and the next he stood in a magical stone circle on the crest of a small, grass covered hill.

Real-Harry appeared next to him soundlessly, shimmering into existence as he stepped forward.

"Nice isn't it?"

Golem-Harry looked out over the sun drenched landscape and could only nod. The scenery looked like a postcard or a photomural from one of Petunia's expensive travel magazines. Rolling hills covered in fields of yellow flowers ran to a snow capped mountain border. Forests ran alongside chattering streams of crystal clear water. A soft and warm summer breeze stirred the flowers in the grass gently, bringing the scent and promise of summer to them.

"Wow," said Golem-Harry.

"You're lucky," said Real-Harry. "Winter gets a bit harsh, but Mum said it was important for us to experience all of the normal seasons, even if it is spring for eight months of the year. Come on, the house is over this way."

He led the way down a narrow path that wound its way into a valley behind the hill of the stone circle.

"She created all of this?"

"Not technically," answered Real-Harry. "Merlin created the spell originally. One of my great, great, great – you get the picture - grandparents and his two brothers rediscovered it, but couldn't get it working properly. Legend is that the Peverell brothers were incredibly talented wizards, but even they couldn't figure out how to make Merlin's spell work the way it should have. Mum and Dad did though. They had everybody's notes who had ever worked on it, but still, they managed to do something nobody has done since Merlin."

There was pride in his voice – not unjustified. It was an extraordinary piece of magic.

"How big is it?" asked Golem-Harry.

"Only a dozen kilometres, but it gives the illusion of being much bigger. You can walk for hours in one direction, only to turn around and get back where you started in a few minutes, if you want to. It's fantastic for getting home on time."

A movement amongst the trees of the forest startled Harry, as a few deer suddenly bound away.

"They're not real," said Real-Harry. "Not much here is, but it's hard to tell, unless you try to do something weird, like kill and eat them."

"What did you do for food?"

"Mum and Dad stocked a lot of supplies, and just kept using expanding and refilling charms to keep it topped up. They used magic to grow everything else we needed in the fields and greenhouses. There it is, home sweet home."

A massive manor house sat nestled on a rise overlooking the valley below them. It was three stories tall and at least four times longer than the Dursley's modest home on Privet drive.

"It wasn't that big when we first came here," explained Real-Harry as they walked on. "Dad worked on it pretty much nonstop the whole time. Can't understand why he would want to go back to Godric's Hollow."

Golem-Harry agreed. It was a paradise. Everything was as perfect as could be imagined.

Inside the house, a different surprise awaited him.

"Hello, Mum," called Real-Harry, entering the front hall of the huge house.

Golem-Harry suddenly felt a thrill of apprehension. He hadn't really thought about it, that the Potters might be home. His previous encounters with Lilly were stilted and uncomfortable, and that was in the relative neutrality of the Headmaster's office or Hogwarts. How would she react with him here, in her home?

Golem-Harry got cold feet. He objected and tried to suggest it was a mistake and they should go back, but Real-Harry wasn't having any of it, instead setting off to search the house for Lilly, dragging Golem-Harry behind him.

They eventually found her in a huge library, sitting at one of the large writing desks positioned in front of a window looking out towards the distant mountains.

"Mum, I've brought Harry home."

"Hello, Harry," said Lilly Potter, rising from her chair. "Welcome to the Potter's Avalon."

"Hello, er, Mrs. Potter," said Golem-Harry, his throat dry with nerves.

He never did quite work out what to call her.

"Calm down, Harry," said Real-Harry. "She's not going to start poking and prodding you to figure out what makes you tick or anything – are you?"

Lilly smiled hesitantly.

"I watched the task. You did very well," she said. "Your scoring was a travesty."

Golem-Harry nodded, unsure what to say.

"That's why we have brought you here," she said.

"Brought me here?" asked Harry. "We?"

Just then, the door to the study burst open, and three men entered, laughing uproariously at some unheard joke. Harry had his wand half out of his pocket before he caught on who it was.

James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin – the Marauders. They stopped as soon as they caught sight of Golem-Harry, laughs dying on their lips.

Harry caught Sirius's eye.

"Hello, Sirius," he said hesitantly. "Professor Lupin, Mr. Potter."

Sirius walked purposely forward and swept Golem-Harry up into a bear hug and spun him around, squeezing him so hard the breath went out of him.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled. "It's great to see you again, my boy."

Golem-Harry felt the tears welling in his eyes, and clung to Sirius. He saw Remus and James smiling broadly, and Lilly apparently trying not to shed a tear. Real-Harry was smiling too, with a self satisfied look on his face.

For the first time in his life outside of Hogwarts, Harry felt like he had come home, and although he knew it was only temporary, and not truly his, it felt good – really good.

Like a dream.

**Finite Incantatem.**

#

**Confusing Epilogue**

Stepping through the portal was similar to crossing onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. One moment Harry was walking into a dark doorway, and the next he stood in a magical stone circle on the crest of a small, grass covered hill.

He looked out over the sun drenched landscape and could only smile. The scenery looked like a postcard or a photo mural from one of Petunia's expensive travel magazines. Rolling hills covered in fields of yellow flowers ran to a snow capped mountain border. Forests ran alongside chattering streams of crystal clear water. A soft and warm summer breeze stirred the flowers in the grass gently, bringing the scent and promise of summer to them.

An everlasting spring.

Harry automatically followed a narrow path that wound its way into a valley behind the hill of the stone circle, his feet moving without conscious thought. The horizon was only a dozen kilometres away, but it gave the illusion of being much bigger.

A movement amongst the trees of the forest startled him, as a few deer suddenly bound away. Even knowing they were not real, they were still magnificent.

A massive manor house sat nestled on a rise overlooking the valley below. It was three stories tall and at least four times longer than the Dursley's modest home on Privet drive. Harry knew it had grown over time, both Potters spending years adding to the simple house it began as until it reached its current proportions.

It was a paradise. Everything was as perfect as could be imagined.

Stepping through the door, he suddenly felt a thrill of apprehension, but pushed through his worry and began searching the house. He eventually found her in a huge library, sitting at one of the polished wood writing desks positioned in front of a window looking out towards the distant mountains.

"Hello, Harry," said Lilly Potter, rising from her chair. "Welcome to the Potter's Avalon."

"Hello, er, Mrs. Potter," said Golem-Harry, his throat dry with nerves.

He never did quite work out what to call her. Lilly smiled hesitantly.

"I watched the task. You did very well," she said. "Your scoring was a travesty."

Golem-Harry nodded, unsure what to say.

"That's why we have brought you here," she said.

"Brought me here?" asked Harry. "We?"

Just then, the door to the study burst open, and three men entered, laughing uproariously at some unheard joke. Harry had his wand half out of his pocket before he caught on who it was.

James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin – the Marauders.

They stopped as soon as they caught sight of Golem-Harry, laughs dying on their lips. Harry caught Sirius's eye.

"Hello, Sirius," he said hesitantly. "Professor Lupin, Mr. Potter."

Sirius walked purposely forward, then swept Golem-Harry up into a bear hug and spun him around, squeezing him so hard the breath went out of him.

"Harry!" Sirius yelled. "It's great to see you again, my boy."

Golem-Harry felt the tears welling in his eyes, and clung to Sirius. He saw Remus and James smiling broadly, and Lilly apparently trying not to shed a tear.

For the first time in his life outside of Hogwarts, Harry felt like he had come home, and although he knew it was probably only temporary, and not truly his, it felt good – really good.

Like a dream.

**Finite Incantatem.**


	6. Alternate Chapter 5 Ending

_This was a potential hole nobody seems to have thought of, luckily. Just a bit of silly fun._

**Chapter Five Omake**

"I can provide you with several Portkeys," he said. "I believe the wards will not prevent them from exiting. If you can get one to each champion, they will be taken out of danger."

"Portkeys," said Harry. "Can you make them go anywhere?"

Dumbledore looked confused.

"Why, yes," he answered hesitantly, and Harry could tell he didn't know what to think.

"Well, can you make one to take me to the centre of the maze once I'm inside the barrier, one to send the bomb somewhere else where it won't do any harm, another to bring me back here, and then one for each of the champions?

"I'll leave them in the centre of the maze in place of the cup. That way this stupid competition might still finish without interruption, I won't have to fight my way through it, none of the champions need to trust me, and you guys can keep working on getting in, just in case."

The twinkle in the headmaster's eyes was the brightest Harry had ever seen it, and none of the others could voice any meaningful objection to Harry's plan. The only catch was deciding what to make into Portkeys, since the champions were unlikely to just pick up any old sort of rubbish lying around, even if it was in the centre.

They finally decided on transfiguring some replica Trophies, and putting the name of each champion on the base. They would charm them so that each champion would take the one with his or her name on it, leaving the others behind.

As Dumbledore and the other headmasters made the substitute cups, Harry shook his head and wondered just what would have happened if he had to do it the hard way. Of course, none of them had thought to ask why he was so willing to do this, or what he expected to get out of it.

Life debts between wizards could be tricky things, but Harry just knew having a few on hand, including one for a famous international quidditch star, could be only good.

#

_A/N That's the end of the 'extras'. Thanks for reading._


End file.
